Aetatis Suae
by Pulowski
Summary: High Elder Maxson, now in his twilight years must oversee the conquest of Ronto.


_From Sentinel J. Pulowski_

 _January 23, 2347_

 _'High Elder Maxson, I regret to inform you that the vertibird carrying our shipment of supplies was shot down in Mississauga, just on the outskirts of Ronto. We are low on energy cells, as well as bullets. I have ordered my men to conserve ammo and to scavenge from the dead. Things seem to be going well for now sir, the major problem is food, and medical supplies. Our medics are running low on just about everything, and hunting is pretty scarce. I've already lost seven Knights who left their posts in order to go find a food, and found themselves knee deep in Rontonian territory. I request another supply shipment be sent to HQ at Niagra, from there we can use some pack brahmin, and green knights to get it to our boys in Ronto. This help would be greatly appreciated sir, Ad Victorum.'_

High Elder Arthur Maxson paused and took a long drag from his cigarrete, savoring every bit of the stale tabacco. Despite his heavy robes, and boots he shivered a little. This winter had been harsh, and showed no signs of growing any milder. _Old world weather,_ he thought and wondered why fate had chosen to visit it upon the wasteland.

With a small sigh, he bent over his desk once more to draft a reply to the Sentinel's request. It wasn't an easy decision to make. The people under the dominion of the Brotherhood were already rationing as it was. From the Commonwealth to the Broken Banks, it would seem the winter was punishing the entire Earth. Maxson could always get supplies to the Brother's who were in the campaign driving the savages of Ronto back to their homeland, but everything comes with a price.

The civilians would not appreciate more of their rations, and supplies going to help with the campaign near Ronto. He shook his head, keeping his Brother's clothed and fed was the neverending struggle of the Ronto campaign. The rations of his Brother's in the north, from what he had last heard, was down to three quarters of a pound of Brahmin meat a day, and maybe a punga fruit if they were lucky to barter one off a caravaneer. God, knows Maxson wanted to do more, but the winter had decimated the farmland, and the Brahmin had nothing to eat. The supply line that traveled from D.C. to the Pitt, and then Niagra had been dormant ever since the winter had set in, and the Brotherhood had resorted to using vertibirds for supply runs instead of air support, which gave the Rontonian forces the oppurtunity to regroup.

Although it was not a total loss, in the two years of the conflict the Brotherhood had managed to drive the Rontonian bastards back to the former Canada across Niagra, even capturing the pre-war ruin of Hamilton, which had been serving as a major training hub for the Rontonian soldiers. If there was one thing Arthur would admit, it was that Ronto had certainly trained their boys well. When the war started they damn near took Albany, and laid seige to the Pitt for two months. The Brotherhood lost upwards of two hundred men in their initial invasion, but the tide changed relatively quickly. After capturing Niagra and pushing through into the outskirts of Ronto, it seemed like the fighting would never end, the Rontonians were dug in deep, and seemed to have a knack for defense.

Taking one last puff of his cigarette Elder Maxson did the one thing he hated doing.

2278

Eleven year old Arthur Maxson ran through the rings of the citadel, pure joy on his youthful face. They had done it, they had really done it! The Enclave was defeated!

The Citadel, for the first time in decades was full of cheers and laughter as the victorius wanderer returned from Adam's Air Force Base. Alcohol almost flooded every chamber as everyone hollered and screamed, happy that the war was over.

Arthur for his part, was just as excited. The Enclave was a scattered remnant of its former self, and now the Brotherhood could focus its attention of the super mutant threat once more. Everything would go back to normal, but that thought scared Arthur. The past few months had been the most exciting of his life. Seeing all the Enclave tech, hearing tales of the battles, he even saw a prisoner or two as they were escorted to interrogation rooms, and of course listening to G.N.R and hearing of the Wanderer's exploits in the wasteland.

The idea of all of it coming to an end made the young boys heart ache. He would have to return to his studies, to endless hours learning the Codex, and pre-war knowledge. Arthur just wanted to help is Brother's, fight in battles, and maybe save a damsel or two like in the old pre-war books.

Making his way out into the courtyard, Arthur saw Elder Lyons face light up as his eyes rested on him. Motioning for him to approach, Arthur timidly came forward, "Uh..Yes sir!" He stuttered for a second before snapping to attention.

The Elder's wrinkled face smiled at him before gripping the small boys shoulders, "Relish this day Arthur, chances are you might not see one like it again."

Maxson opened his eyes and refocused on the meeting at hand, Elders from Point Lookout, Richmond, Baltimore, and many others all stared at him as they sat around the large round table. Clearing his throat he stood, "I have called you all hear today to debate a great matter." He started, "Our last shipment of supplies to our Brother's fighting in Ronto, was destroyed. Sentinel Pulowski is requesting an immediate resupply-"

"Send it to them then! It is the only reasonable option. Our Brother's are closing in on victory over those savages in the North!" Yelled Elder Brock of The Pitt, his dark face twisted in anger at the mere idea of not fully resupplying their Brother's.

A laugh came from a blonde, lightly framed man sitting across, "Ha, and where do you suppose we get these supplies? Hmm? We are already rationing the settlements under our protection as is. What's to say they get a little hungry...and a little trigger happy."

And so began hours of debate that Arthur no longer had the patience or health for. Half way through he returned to his quarters with the help of his aides, and collapsed onto his bed. His mind was made up, and he hoped that it was the right decision.

 _From High Elder Maxson_

 _January 27, 2347_

 _to: Sentinel J. Pulowski_

 _Sentinel it is with great regret I inform you, that your request for a full ressuply has been denied. You shall recieve half re-supply. They will be delivered to Niagra per your request...You are not forgotten Pulowski, and neither are the brothers under your command. Steel be with you._

* * *

 **Just an Idea that has been floating around in my head for a bit.**


End file.
